


Enharmonic

by luna65



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Slash, Brotp, Gen, M/M, Sammy & Danny: friendship goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna65/pseuds/luna65
Summary: Trust is soul-deep, even as you mightpretendotherwise.





	Enharmonic

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the band switching roles in Melbourne, and it was just squeeful to see Danny playing Sam's bass. And also just some musing/speculation on the recording of the new album (especially that one photo of Danny - yeah you know which one I mean).

Sometimes Danny would just sit and marvel at the space they were now inhabiting. This was a hallowed ground of music makers, the famed Ocean Way - even as the studio no longer bore that name. They were working in Studio A, the famous big room, that resounding enclosure of warm wood, and it was like you could hear the echoes of the greats vibrating the molecules of air all around you. Watching the others working on overdubs, he was continually fascinated by creativity, even as he also participated in it daily. You learned a lot about people that way, watching them bring their passions to life.

They all worked differently: Josh and Jake leaned on each other for support, watched each other for the clues of their secret language, easier to communicate when the words didn’t always encompass the yearning or the meaning. So Danny expected Sam might do the same, but that mad scientist brain of his was a secretive thing. Greg might stop him and ask: ‘What’s that about, what you’re doing there?’ only to have Sam launch into an epic discussion of someone’s bridge on a song from 1971.

“It’s ‘Teen Town!’” Sam insisted this time. “You know, that burble thing.”

Greg laughed. “Dude, what the fuck do you know about Weather Report?!”

They had felt affronted then, Danny bristling on Sam’s behalf.

“I know enough to steal when I think it works,” Sam shot back, and then he laughed, diffusing the tension.

“Yeah okay, but fuck that’s busy, I think you don’t need ten notes in there when three will do.”

“Hey man, I play what I feel.”

Danny had wanted to say _C’mon, can’t you feel the greatness in here? We’re just honoring it._ He stayed silent, but his stare was fairly obvious. _Don’t fuck with my boy._

It was a new world, it was the big time, but no one was allowed to tinker with their chemistry to the point of breaking those covalent bonds. Al, at least, had understood that about them. Understood that they had grown up together and you couldn’t hope to unravel those connections. Didn’t even try.

It was always cold in the complex, air conditioning running not only to keep those million-dollar electronics in top form, but also against another bone-dry Southern California summer. It was still a novelty for them, that arid land of illusions. But they would troop in clothed for chill, in sweaters and scarves and blazers, layers of mismatched insulation. Except for Jake, of course, who was forever hyperaware of his appearance and of wanting to appear in a particular way. Danny and Sam had instigated an unspoken competition for the most painfully clashing attire because it amused them. Their producer was unused to such idiosyncratic sartorial choices. Day by day it dawned on him that these weren’t kids looking for a guru or needing to be herded. More like a pack of young Michigan bohos used to going their own weird way and making it work for them. A confidence he was unlikely to find elsewhere, and so he backed off from the role of sonic dad and tried instead for stylistic big brother.

But they were unfailingly polite, which was just goddamn _eerie_.

And they knew it.

In the midst of a long discussion between Josh and Jake and Greg about a particular arrangement, which veered from jovial politicking to salty opinionated banter, Danny nudged Sam as they inhabited a near-mirrored slouch on a nearby couch, both wearing Native American-patterned pullovers in wintery tones paired with patterned leggings (as they were both skinny enough to wear women’s leggings without a second thought) which had no business being in the vicinity of those sweaters. Therefore, _perfect_.

“Let’s go outside - I need to stretch.”

“Wagner, it’s 94 degrees out there. I will **die**.”

“Just take your sweater off.”

“No, I don’t just go around half-clothed, you know that.”

Danny snickered; it was (mostly) true, Jakey was the only one confident enough to be bare-chested most of the time; like it was his original form.

“You won’t die.”

“We should be recording in Jackson Hole, or something, where they have sensible weather.”

Sam had recently become convinced that they should all relocate to Wyoming or Montana, and while Danny could understand the charm of those environs, the big time meant it would never work.

“It’s Summer.”

“Yeah whatever.”

Another snicker. “So we haven’t talked about changes - didn’t Josh say we should change it up for the next shows?”

“But what does that _mean_?”

“I dunno; maybe we should all switch around.”

“What - you on keys?”

“Me on guitar!”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen!”

“Okay, so yeah, you and me switch.”

“You can barely play the Hammond!”

“And you are a terrible drummer, so what?”

“Nah I don’t wanna be clownin’ - not for that.”

“Okay so let me play bass and Joshie can play drums. He can fake it better than you can.”

“Touching **my** baby? Think again!”

“What, you don’t trust me? Dude, I let you play every single guitar I own!”

Sam looked down at Danny’s feet - black socks and dingy white slip-ons. _Perfect_.

“You want to let me touch _everything_, you know you do.”

Danny flushed, thick black lashes transmitting a code of squirming admission.

“Then return the favor, Sam-a-lama.”

“You gotta promise you’ll be gentle. And respectful.”

“I’m whatever you need me to be, you know that.”

Sam grinned, but then sighed. “Damn, I dunno. I mean, you’ll probably smoke me and I’ll have to watch it on YouTube forever.”

Danny laughed, pitching it low and wicked. “Probably. But I work hard to make you look good.”

“Daniel you keep talkin’ this way your head’s not gonna fit through the door.”

“I can’t believe that Sam ‘I can teach myself anything in 10 minutes’ Kiszka is afraid of a little switch-hitting!”

“Not the right analogy!”

“Whatever!”

The others had fallen silent and they looked over to see Josh and Jake staring back at them.

“Okay, what is it now?” Josh asked, mock-parental.

“Nothing,” the two intoned, which earned a _Yeah right!_ eyeroll from the twins.

“Jakey, you think you can wail on Dad’s harp good enough now?”

The other shrugged. “Well yeah, like, on a 12-bar blues for sure.”

Danny snapped his fingers. “So that’s what we do then.”

“Do what?” Josh asked.

“For the next shows. Like, a blues stroll or something. Daniel can handle a walking bassline.”

The others laughed and Danny socked Sam in the arm.

“Ow! Damn Gojira, you don’t have to be **that** mad!”

“Yeah I do! I’m not _that_ basic.”

“Yeah I mean, look at that outfit,” Jake teased. “Totally not a basic bitch.”

“Gonna let him touch your true love?” Josh inquired, skeptical. “Just gonna let your bestie move right in, huh?”

“Hush!” Danny called out, laughing.

Their eyes met, each smirking, working their instinctual comedic timing on the fly.

“Bass-ically,” they said in unison, and everyone cracked up.

“I swear, if you drop her -” Sam began and Danny pushed him against the wall of the bathroom where they had each been taming their hair in this equally arid clime thousands of miles away.

“You know I wouldn’t. You know how I know?” Danny asked, leaning in until they were nose-to-nose.

Sam snorted; there was just something ridiculous about their resident Good Boy attempting seduction.

“Maybe I don’t care as much about my dick,” he cracked.

“Well you _should_,” Danny whispered. “I know I do.”

Sam cracked up again and they sorted themselves out as they heard the stage call from the other room.

“I **do** trust you, you know that, right?” Sam asked, only half-rhetorical.

Danny smiled, that genuinely joyful grin which squeezed Sam’s heart every time.

“I know.”

And Sam also knew he would never regret doing so. He knew it like he knew his heart would pound before they stepped onstage...a touch of butterflies, but in truth primarily the beat he was waiting to feel throughout his body when the person who was his soulmate took up the pulse of their destiny and propelled them towards it, one song at a time.


End file.
